


Just Me Before We Met

by andersonblaines



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andersonblaines/pseuds/andersonblaines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine never dealt with being alone well. Kurt finds out just how badly he takes it. Trigger warnings for suicide, self harm and depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Me Before We Met

It was an ordinary day when Blaine had to tell Kurt everything; when Blaine had to finally reveal the only secret he had held onto for so long.

They were clearing out Blaine's room so he could move to New York with as little as possible when Kurt found it. Blaine had disappeared downstairs to get more trash bags when Kurt had pulled a tatty notebook from a small box. Intrigued, he opened it.

Kurt was expecting empty pages, song lyrics, or a diary even. What he found was nothing like that.

Kurt had found a journal full of suicide notes, dried blood stains on some pages, and crinkled paper, presumably from tears.

As he read the seemingly endless notes, he heard Blaine walk into the room behind him.

"Hey, guess what I found! There's a picture of me when I was about two-" He stopped abruptly when he saw tears falling from Kurt's eyes. "What's wrong, Kurt?" he said as his eyes fell to the notebook lying open in Kurt's lap. "Oh."

"Blaine," Kurt breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I didn't want y-you to know, Kurt," he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. "I couldn't tell you."

"Blaine," he repeated, unable to say much else. His eyes fell to the journal, and he started reading.

"I don't feel like myself anymore. I don't want my dad to hate me because of something I can't change, something I was born with. I don't want my mum to look at me like that anymore, and I don't want my brother to call me a fag." His voice caught on the last word, and a shaky breath escaped his lips. "I didn't want to upset anyone any longer, I can't be here anymore." Hands trembling, he flicked forward a few pages.

"I don't want to do this. No one is ever going to read this, no one cares."

"Kurt, stop. Please, stop it. I-I can't listen to that. Please, just stop reading." Blaine sat down opposite Kurt on his bed, and took a deep breath in. "I guess I'll have to tell you, right?"

Kurt shut the journal and threw it away from him. It landed upside down with a dull thud onto the carpeted floor. He took Blaine's hands into his own, and stared into his eyes. "I'm not forcing you to, but this is big, baby. I need to know what happened."

Blaine nodded slowly. He tentatively reached up to brush away a stray tear on Kurt's cheek. "Don't cry, Kurt. I love you."

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hands. "I love you so much more than anything."

Blaine smiled weakly, and closed his eyes for a second, trying to regain composure. He took in a deep breath and began talking.

"Before I met you, before I went to Dalton, I was at a school that didn't like homosexuality at all. Before the Sadie Hawkins dance, it was bearable because it was just rumors. No one had anything solid. When I came out to my parents though, it was like someone had taken this giant hammer and crushed anything positive about my life." Blaine blinked back tears and coughed, trying to fight the sobs that were threatening to erupt any second. "I had nothing left worth holding on for," he whispered, barely audible to his boyfriend. Kurt rubbed slow, soothing circles onto the backs of Blaine's hands.

"You don't have to do this now, Blaine," Kurt soothed, desperately trying to pull the boy sitting opposite him back from wherever his mind had wandered to.

"No. If I don't tell you now, I never will," he responded, tears lacing his every word.

"Okay, if you're sure. But listen to me, if it gets too much you tell me straight away." It wasn't a question, it was a command. Blaine nodded. He turned to look out of his window because he didn't want to know what he would find in Kurt's eyes.  

"I couldn't do it. The rumors became truth at school and it all got worse. Nobody would talk to me anymore, except to call me things or tell me I was better off-" A sob erupted through Blaine's body. He shook his head, and carried on, quieter than before. "Everyone said I was better off dead."

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, holding his hands so tightly that he feared he may break his boyfriend's bones.

"I felt so bad, all the time. I could barely get myself out of bed every morning because I had absolutely nothing to live for. Until," he breathed out slowly. "Until I found Ed. He was gay, too. He asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance with him, and I thought that finally, something g-good might actually h-happen to me."

He tore his hand from Kurt's, and roughly wiped away tears from each eye. Kurt could barely hear what he said next. "I was wrong. I was so, so wrong."

"What happened? Just, go slow," reassured Kurt.

"Ed got away, I told him to run before they could hit him again. I wasn't quite so lucky, and after they'd finished, I was lying there with absolutely no reason to try and hold on any longer, so once I was home, I didn't," he said, voice cracking as he spoke.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked in a small voice.

"My parents signed the papers and then disappeared, my brother never visited. I went home to an empty house, and I raided the-the medicine-” Blaine shook his head violently. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. Take it slow, baby,” Kurt said, tears threatening to fall any second.

“I took all the pills I could find, and fell asleep in the bathtub. I-I wouldn’t be here today if my brother hadn’t forgotten his lunch money.”

 

There was a silence that fell between the two boys, neither of them knowing what could be said to express how they felt. Without thinking, Kurt shuffled awkwardly along the bed to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. Blaine returned the hug, his body still shaking with sobs. After a minute or so, Kurt pulled back.

“Blaine, look at me,” Kurt whispered. Blaine continued to avoid his eyes.

“Look at me, baby,” he repeated, louder this time. After a moment of hesitation, Blaine flicked his eyes up and into Kurt’s.

“Kurt,” Blaine murmured.

“Listen to me, Blaine. I love you more than anything in the world, and nothing is ever going to change that. I am so glad that your brother forgot his lunch money that day because I don’t know how I’d survive without you, Blaine Anderson. You are my whole world, and if you ever, _ever_ feel like that again, you come and find me. No matter what time it is, whether we are still together-”

“Kurt, I can’t be without you.” The tone of desperation in his voice was unnoticeable. Blaine’s gaze dropped down to his lap where his hands were resting. He didn’t realize that his fingernails were digging into his into palms, a habit he thought he had long since grown out of. Kurt took Blaine’s chin between his fingers and tilted it up so that he was forced to look at him again.  

“And I can’t be without you, but if we ever are not together anymore, and I hope that that day never comes, but if we ever are, you still ring me or come and see me, because the world without you in it would be an unbearable place, Blaine. There’s one more thing, and I want you to tell me the truth, I’m not going to judge you. Was that the first time you had ever tried to hurt yourself?”

Blaine’s sharp intake of breath gave Kurt the answer he’d been dreading.

“Why is there blood on some of the pages, Blaine?”

Blaine couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Kurt, I-I, when, before that _day,_ I didn’t cope w-well. I used to, when I felt really l-low, I used to; God, why is this so hard?” Blaine’s eyes flickered around the room, searching for the courage to go on. “When I felt really bad, I, um, I c-cut myself,” he whispered, the lump in his throat hard to swallow down.

Kurt’s hands moved over his boyfriend’s, massaging circles into the backs of them, trying to get him to loosen up. As Blaine’s façade broke and a tidal wave of tears escaped his eyes, Kurt continued whispering reassuring phrases, even though his mind was yelling at him to _just do something else already._ Silently, Kurt wondered how he had never seen the scars, but decided that now wasn’t the time to ask that question. Instead, he settled for something that he needed an honest answer to.

“When was the last time?”

Blaine breathed heavily in, and slowly released it as he spoke. “It was bad a couple of months ago, when you were in New York and I was here. I felt really alone, and some days it just helped, but before that, a while back I guess.”

Kurt nodded, completely unsure of what else he could do. He took a breath, and asked the question he _needed_ to know the answer to.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We’ve been together for years now, Blaine. Surely you knew that I wouldn’t have judged you.” Blaine blinked furiously, not letting himself cry.

“I c-couldn’t, Kurt. I’ve never told anyone.” Kurt nodded again, and continued.

“You should’ve told me,” he soothed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Blaine’s voice was small.

“It’s okay, baby. Do you still get urges? And be honest with me, I need to know.”

“I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t, because I do. All the time, it’s there. But the difference this time is that I know I’ve got a reason not to. Before, I had nothing and no one gave a damn about what happened to me.” Blaine looked into Kurt’s eyes, and was surprised at the amount of compassion he found there.  “Now, I’ve got you. You are all I need, Kurt.”

Kurt’s lips moved forwards to join Blaine’s, and he lingered there for longer than usual. When he had to pull back for air, Kurt let his forehead rest against Blaine’s, their hands intertwined below.

“I love you so much Blaine Anderson. I want you to be happy for your whole life because you deserve nothing less. I hate that you feel like that, so much more than I can put into words. But please, know that you are loved. You are loved so much, and I never want to be with anyone else, except you. You are my everything, Blaine, and together, we’re going to get past this.” Blaine’s mouth found itself on Kurt’s again, and the two teens reveled in each other.

“I don’t know how to thank you, because nothing I say will ever truly express how grateful I am to have you in my life, Kurt. I wouldn’t be here without you,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt again.

“You don’t have to say anything, except this. Promise me something. Promise me that when you get an urge, you come and talk to me. It doesn’t even have to be about that, just talk to me. Heck, talk to me about the weather if you want to. Just remind yourself that you’re not alone. I am always going to be here for you. I’m sad that you didn’t tell me all of this before, but I understand why, and I, I just love you.” A small smile played on Blaine’s lips, and he nodded.

“I promise.”

 

 


	2. It Hurts Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set four months on from "Just Me Before We Met". Blaine eventually makes use of his promise to Kurt.

It was four months since the day that Blaine had told Kurt everything. Kurt was busy with work as Vogue.com desperately needed him. Blaine was job-hunting unsuccessfully.

Even though the feelings of needing to cut were still prominent, Blaine hadn’t spoken to Kurt about it. He had tried to bring it up numerous times, but Blaine had dismissed him with "I'm okay now," and "Thank you, I'll talk to you if I need to," and so far, that had been enough. The urge was manageable, and he fought it every single day.

Today however, fighting it was not enough.

Blaine had been arguing with himself for the past twenty minutes, desperately trying to resist the urge. It was stronger than anything he'd felt in the past four months, and something inside of him yelled that eventually, he was gonna lose out.

Blaine had never forgotten Kurt's promise of ringing or going to find him when he felt like this, but that didn't make it any easier. His stupid pride wouldn’t let him pick up the phone and talk to him because no one understood how hard it was needing help so badly that you can’t even say it. He didn’t want Kurt to worry about him, or have to leave work to come and sort out the mess that his stupid boyfriend had made.

No, Blaine wouldn’t ring Kurt.

He ran his hands through his hair, and stared at the rejection letter lying next to him on the bed. It arrived after Kurt had gone to work, and it was the fourth time this month that Blaine had been told ’sorry, but you're not what we’re looking for’. Blaine hadn’t told Kurt about any of them, he’d simply said that he was ’still waiting’ to hear anything.

It was as if someone had put a sign up telling all the employers to reject Blaine, because why the hell not? Let's make his life a living hell and watch him struggle.

Because he really, really was. It was careless and naive of him to have believed that maybe once he had Kurt, he’d be okay. He had been stupid enough to think that he’d been good at that interview and they seemed to like him, but no.

There was always someone better.

A wave of fresh tears hit Blaine, and he let out a whimper. The need was so strong now, it was almost overwhelming.

With a last, defeated sigh, Blaine rose from the bed, phone in hand. He was tired of fighting and he couldn’t do it any longer.  As he walked to the en-suite, Blaine felt calmer and more in control than he had done for a very long time.

Hidden in the lining of his toiletries bag was his old razor. He hadn't seen it for quite a while. Blaine placed his phone onto the closed toilet lid, and searched for the razor in the lining. Once he had found it, he held it between his fingers for a few minutes, contemplating where he should start. As he thought, he slumped down the wall until he was sat on the floor leaning against the tiles.

Blaine needed a release, and quickly. The easiest place to achieve that was his wrists, so he rolled back his jumper sleeves and positioned the razor. Taking a deep breath in, he pushed down and across.

Before any blood had even reached the surface, Blaine repeated the action, underneath the previous cut. After cutting one arm ten times, he moved to his other wrist.

Blaine had no regard for getting blood on the floor or on his clothes, so didn’t flinch when his currently-bleeding-wrist started to drop red onto his trousers. He cut his other arm, with more force this time. The blood flowed freely out of the gaping wounds on his both of his wrists, and Blaine finally felt calm.

Until he realized what had just happened.

As he sat there bleeding out, it suddenly dawned on him that he had done it again. He had ruined everything, and Kurt would be so disappointed.Oh crap, Kurt.

Blaine needed help. Both of his wrists were bleeding at an alarming rate, but Blaine couldn’t find the strength to do anything about it.

He needed Kurt.

He needed him to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he would get through this, because right now he felt the complete opposite.

Slowly, Blaine shuffled across the bathroom to the toilet, where he had placed his phone earlier. Hissing as the cuts widened as he extended his arm to reach it, Blaine managed to grab his phone and hit his number one speed dial.

He hit loudspeaker because there was no way he could hold a phone up to his ear right now.

Kurt answered on the third ring.

"Blaine! Hey honey, I was just about to text you! How weird, I told you we're connected-" Kurt chirped down the phone line, and Blaine felt a wave of self-loathing because he was going to crush that mood any second now.

"Kurt," Blaine breathed as tears fell down his face, voice catching in his throat.

Kurt's heart dropped. "Blaine, what’s wrong?"

"I screwed up, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I ruined everything and you’re going to hate me and I'm sorry. I love you and I'm sorry and I didn't mean for any of this, I just-"

"Blaine, breathe for me. Breathe, baby. You're going to be okay," Kurt said, his voice calm. He had no idea how though, on the inside he was screaming.

"I, I can't breathe right," Blaine whispered, choking as he did so. His breaths were coming in short quick bursts, and they weren’t delivering enough oxygen into his lungs. He could feel the panic starting to flood him.

What had he done?

"Blaine, take some big breaths in for me. I'm on my way to you, okay? Take a deep breath, baby," Kurt soothed.

"I c-can’t, I can’t," Blaine said, words muddling together.

"Breathe, Blaine, breathe." Kurt cursed under his breath as people filled the sidewalk out of nowhere. He barged past multiple shoulders as he fought to get to his boyfriend.

Blaine focused on his breathing as he tried to calm himself down. Nothing seemed to be working though, and it was scaring him.

"Blaine, you still with me?" Kurt yelled, unsure of how much Blaine could hear over the noise of New York City.

Blaine nodded, and then realized Kurt couldn’t see him. "Yeah, but Kurt, I-I really need you."

Kurt’s heart broke as he listened to his boyfriend’s obvious plea for help. It hurt him to hear Blaine sound so vulnerable.

"I'm coming, Blaine. I'm almost there, I promise. Just hold on for me," Kurt said, growing increasingly worried with every dreadful scenario that ran through his head. "Hang on in there, Blainers."

Kurt heard a small laugh drift down the line. "You haven't called me that since we were in high school."

Kurt chuckled. "I guess not."

"Are you nearly here?" The desperation in his own voice made Blaine want to throw up.

"Yeah, I've just got to the reception."

"Okay." Blaine’s voice was small, his breathing still far too rapid for Kurt’s liking. "Kurt, I am really sorry."

Kurt got into the elevator and let out a deep breath. "Baby, you have nothing to apologize for. We’re gonna get through this, okay?"

"Sure," Blaine said, though his tone was less than convincing.

"I'm here," Kurt announced, relieved at the fact.

"Okay. Good," Blaine murmured, unable to say much else.

Kurt raced out of the elevator and around the corner to their flat. He fumbled with his phone for a good minute, hands shaking too much to fit the key into the lock. He eventually got through the door, ended the call and navigated his way through their flat, throwing his phone onto the couch in the process.

"Blaine!" Kurt yelled. He heard a faint response from the direction of their bedroom.

He ran through the door, not noticing the abandoned letter on the bed, and abruptly stopped when he smelt the blood. Kurt swallowed thickly and pushed the en-suite door open.

Blaine was completely supported by the wall, eyes half closed. Kurt’s eyes flicked down to his wrists.

Oh god.

There were at least fifteen cuts between both arms, all of them bleeding heavily. Next to him lay a glistening metal rectangle, and Kurt wanted nothing more than to destroy it.

"Kurt, help me," Blaine whispered, turning his head to face in the direction of the door.

"It’s alright baby, I'm here now. You’re gonna be okay," Kurt said, reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring Blaine. He dropped to the ground in front of him, and pulled him in for a hug. “Don’t worry about my shirt; I’ve got more than enough.” Blaine’s body shook with sobs. “Hey, shush. Don’t cry, baby. I’m here now, you’re okay. We’re going to do this together. You’re not alone.” Blaine sniffed once, then twice, and pulled back.

“Thank you, Kurt.” As Blaine slumped back against the wall with a defeated look in his eyes, Kurt took another look at his wrists.

It didn’t look good.

"Blaine, if I said that I should probably take you to the hospital, what would you say?" Kurt posed the question as he grabbed wads of toilet paper from the roll, and searched through the medicine cabinet for bandages.

Blaine’s mind started racing, thoughts of his time spent under 74-hour mandatory suicide watch ricocheting around his head. "No, I can't. They'll think that it was an attempt and we can’t afford it and no, Kurt."

"Money’s not part of this. If you need to go, we’ll go." Kurt lowered himself down to Blaine’s level, and shuffled in beside him. For the first time, he looked his boyfriend in the eyes, but couldn’t quite figure out exactly what he found there.

"No, Kurt. I'm not going." His voice was defiant with underlying tones of fear.

"I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, but we need to clean you up, okay?" Blaine nodded, and Kurt reached over and took Blaine's hands in his own. "You should’ve called me. Why didn’t you call me?" Kurt placed tissue onto each of Blaine's wrists, and applied pressure.

"I didn’t want to worry you," Blaine said in an incredibly small voice.

"But you've worried me more now, Blaine." Kurt stopped as soon as he saw the look of hurt on Blaine's face. "No, I don't mean it like that. I just wish I could’ve stopped you, that's all. It hurts me more than I ever possibly could have imagined seeing you like this."

Blaine sniffed, and nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Please, stop apologizing. You've got nothing to be sorry for." Kurt winced when he felt the blood coming through the tissue. "I need you to tell me why." He slowly pulled off the tissue, and replaced it with a clean wad. He left the blood-stained old ones on the floor next to them.

Blaine shook his head. "I can't."

"I know that this must be really hard for you right now, but we’ve got to figure out why you did it so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again."

"I understand that, I just, I, I wanted to tell you but, I, I, damn it." Blaine took his lip between his teeth and started biting furiously.

"Hey, Blaine, stop that. Look at me." Kurt leant forward and kissed him, forcing Blaine to stop gnawing his lip open. Kurt could taste the blood on his tongue. When Blaine pulled back, he winced. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm okay."

"You’ve got to stop doing that, honey. Tell me what hurts," he murmured.

"It never used to hurt me, Kurt. Why does it hurt now?" The tone of almost-childlike desperation in his voice tore Kurt straight down the middle.

"I don't know, baby. I don't know." Kurt let go of his wrists, and stood up. Noticing the look on Blaine's face, he quickly explained. "I'm not going anywhere, honest. I’m just gonna go fetch you some Advil and some water to help with the pain, okay? Don’t move."

"Not freaking likely," Blaine scoffed in a playful tone, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. As Kurt walked out of the room, he looked back over his shoulder to his boyfriend. Something inside him had snapped, and Kurt was determined to find out what.

He walked past the bed as usual, and then glanced back. Sure enough, there on the bed was a folded piece of paper. Kurt’s heart raced double-time, presuming it was another suicide note. He reached over and grabbed it, sitting down on the bed as he did so.

_Dear Mr. Anderson,_

_We are writing to regretfully inform you that we will not be recruiting you for the role of musical coach at 57 th Street High School. _

Kurt couldn’t continue reading. Was this why Blaine was sat in their bathroom bleeding out? It took him a minute to realize that Blaine still needed Advil and water. Slowly, he moved off the bed, leaving the letter where he found it.

Once Kurt had returned to the bathroom, gave Blaine the pills and helped him to drink the water (because it wasn’t easy trying to hold a glass when you had gashes on both wrists), he decided to bring it up.

“Blaine, is the letter laying on our bed anything to do with this?” Blaine furrowed his eyebrows together, faking confusion. Kurt once again took the tissues off, relieved to see that the bleeding was getting slower. Thankfully, the wounds weren’t as deep as he first thought. Blaine spoke as he started to wrap bandages around both wrists individually.

“W-what letter?” Blaine’s face contorted as Kurt pulled the bandages tight and secured them with medical tape.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Why didn’t you tell me?” Kurt hated that he sounded so demanding and untrusting, but he couldn’t help it.

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. You got a job so quickly when you came here, and this is the fourth letter _this month_. I just, I, crap. Please don’t leave me, Kurt. Please don’t leave.” Blaine’s voice sounded crackly as he spoke, as if _talking_ was new and scary.

“God Blaine, don’t you get it? I’m not leaving you for anything, unless you cancel my Vogue subscription, of course.” Kurt laughed dryly, trying to make light of their situation. Blaine just smiled. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I don’t know how to help you, that’s all.” Kurt’s voice turned to a whisper. “I just want you to be happy.”

This time, Blaine really did smile. “You make me happy.” The admission made Kurt blink back tears. “But, sometimes, that’s not enough. I thought that being with you, here in New York, would miraculously fix everything and I’d never feel like this again, but as usual, I was very wrong. It’s rejection after rejection, and I can’t take it anymore. I feel so worthless sometimes and it takes everything in me not to just _give up._  Today I just couldn’t fight anymore, and I just, I don’t know. I had to.”  Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hands and kissed the bandages around his wrists.

“I am always going to be here for you, Blaine Anderson. I told you all those years ago that I’m never saying goodbye to you, and I meant it.” Blaine kissed Kurt chastely on the lips. “Did you say it was the fourth letter?” Blaine nodded. “Oh honey,” he breathed.

“I’m just not good enough for anyone, I guess.” Blaine finally admitted what had been troubling him so badly for so long, and it felt natural to tell Kurt now, rather than forced.

“No, that’s not true. You are more than good enough for me.” Kurt put a hand on Blaine’s cheek and held it there. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Blaine said, completely overwhelmed at the whole situation.

“Let’s go watch some Disney films, eh?” Kurt said as he stood up.

“I would love that.” Kurt held his hand out for Blaine, who took it and hugged Kurt once he was standing.

“Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I’d get by without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, that’s what I’m here for.”

With blood-stained clothes and tear-stained faces, they fell asleep on top of the comforter to the closing scene of _The Lion King,_ and knew that in the morning, they would face whatever the world threw at them, _together._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is something very close to my heart, I hope I have done it justice.


End file.
